A Fresh Black Rose
by Kurarisa
Summary: It's not much of a ritual, but it's their ritual. ZADR References and character death... Review. You know you want to. I suck at summaries, but hey. Rating for graveyards and my appaling language in A/N.


_Yes, I write Zim stories. This idea literally came to me about an hour ago, and I was bored, so I figured, why the hell not. _

_**Disclaimer: **I sure as eggs don't own Invader Zim, Gaz, Dib, Gir or Professor Membrane. I kinda own Gaz's admirer, but he gets, like, a line of mention. So I don't own bugger all. _

_**Warnings: **Character death, depressing emo-ness and ZADR references. And crap writing, but that's beside the point. _

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Checking it contained everything, Gaz swung the tattered black rucksack over her shoulder and walked out of the house, locking the door behind her. That old rucksack... despite the years of use, it was still the same as when he had left it. Still with the three pins down the left strap, Deftones, Dragonforce and Bullet. Still with the skoolkid heiroglyphics scrawled in whiteout pen on the front panel. But, where it had once contained dogeared exercise books and paranormalist paraphilnaelia, along with assorted fluff, dust and half-rotted cherry stones, nowadays it was only ever used to hold four things: a can of soda, a black rose, a tatty rug, and a black notebook.

Looking up, the violet-haired girl realised dimly her steps had brought her to Zim's house already. She really needed to stop zoning out. Seeing the curtains twitch, she stood at the bottom of the path, leaning aganist the gate post, instead of going up the path and knocking on the door. He'd seen her, he'd be out in a second. Sure enough, a moment later the door opened to reveal the black-haired Irken, his back to her as he yelled a command to Gir not to order tacos again. After locking the door, he turned and offered a faint smile to the girl, waving half-heartedly. She returned it.

"Hey," he muttered as he reached the gate, swinging it shut behind him.

"You okay?" she replied anxiously. He was never exactly cheery on Saturdays, but today he seemed... downer than usual. He waved the question away, not convincing her. "Zim, you know you can't lie to me. I know you'd rather die than admit you're not in peak form, but if you don't admit it I'm never coming again."

"It's just... a year, you know?" he sighed, beaten. He would hate to have to do this alone, even though he knew full well Gaz would never carry out her threat. "Kinda... depressing." The girl slid an arm around his shoulders comfortingly.

"Who'd have thought. The mighty Zim has a soul." she quipped, succeeding in bringing a smile back to his face for a moment. She flipped open her phone to check the time. "Come on, we're gonna be late."

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The heavy metal gates creaked louder than they usually did as the pair entered the cemetery. They picked their way between the graves, knowing the route by heart. Every week they came to this place, always at the same time. Saturday evening, 5:06pm. The exact time. They knew because the glass in his watch had broken when he fell, stopping the mechanism. Finally, they came to the stone they wanted. No, not _wanted_. Neither of them _wanted_ to see the lump of black granite instead of the living, breathing human being they once knew. But it was **his** headstone.

Every week, they followed the exact same routine. Zim would fish the rug from the rucksack and spread it on the grass infront of the headstone, while Gaz carefully removed last week's rose and replaced it with the fresh one. Then they would both sit on the rug and share the can of soda. And talk about their week, from the trivial matters, like Tak had stolen Zim's favourite pen again, to the important. Like the time Gaz had been asked out. She turned the guy down. He had stupid hair.

It was a simple ritual. But it was _their_ ritual. Their tribute, however small, to a brother to one, an enemy to the other, a friend to both.

Even now, the silver lettering shone as brightly as the day it was painted onto the granite. A year on, and the stone still shone like marble.

"Gaz?" Zim broke the silence tentatively. "Why always a soda? Every week, even right at the very beginning, when you used to bring that Earthaniod alcohol, we always drink a soda on Saturday..."

"Simple." Gaz half-smiled, gazing ruefully at the Invader. "He always drank the last soda. It's payback." They laughed, but they knew she was joking- it wasn't payback. It was the only tribute they had to him. Another few seconds passed in silence, the birches around the churchyard blocking out the roar of the traffic. "He did love you, you know, Zim..." He choked on the soda.

"W-wha... Where did that come from?!" he spluttered, cherry Fizbomb burning the insides of his nose.

"I just thought, one year anniversary, you should know..." She muttered contemplatively, shaking the can to check the level of the drink. It was empty. She tossed the can in the trash, oblivious to Zim's sudden dumbfoundedness. "He'd never have told you himself, he was too proud for that. But he told me by accident once, and made me promise, if this sorta thing should ever happen, I'd tell you... And I have!" She grinned triumphantly and scrambled up from the rug. "Come on, we should head off. Gir's probably destroyed the house by now, and I told my dad I'd be back before dark." She offered a hand to help her friend up from the ground, shook the rug and folded it. It slotted back into the bag easily. "See ya, bro," she grinned, kissing her fingertips and transferring the kiss to the top of the stone. The two friends set off out of the graveyard as the last rays of the October sunset lit the sky up in amber and scarlet, winking off the silver lettering.

**_Dib Membrane  
A mouth to speak and eyes to see,  
In body trapped, in spirit free_**

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_Review? Pweez? You shall get cookies if you doooooo..... -end bribery-_

_But seriously, reviews keep me alive. So if you want a possible sequel to this, I suggest you review. It takes, like, a minute._


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